An American Tale
by NctrnlBst
Summary: Missing scene: takes place during PoA. Maximus Brankovitch IV Junior is the son of the American National Team captain. His father dreams of his son one day joining him on the national team so he sends him to Hogwarts in hopes of breeding a champion.
1. Maximus Brankovitch IV

As a short explination for this story, I was re-reading OotP in anticipation for the upcomming movie this summer, and the thought occured to me why wasn't there any American students at Hogwarts? If Hogwarts really was, as Hagrid put it, "The greatest school for witchcraft and wizardry in the world", then it would be obvious that parents from all over the world would want their children to go there. It wouldn't be the first time that parents send their kids to a boarding school in another country. In fact, I'm convinced that there most likely are American students attending Hogwarts, but they are not mentioned in any of the books. So, I decided to write a fic about an American at Hogwarts.

I had originally intended this to be a oneshot, but once I started writing, it turned out to be pretty long for a oneshot. My beta Priya suggested that I break it up into chapters, so now it is a two-parter.

Many thanks to my Beta Reader spazticapple.

Insert funny worded, grammatically incorrect disclaimer here:

* * *

An American Tale 

Throughout the years, Hogwarts has become home to many a witch and wizard. For one student, Maximus Brankovitch IV, it has become just another step in his father's grand scheme. The son of the American National Quidditch team captain, Junior (as he is referred) has some high expectations to live up to. His father, who won the U.S. Cup seven times for the Fitchburg Finches, and holds the American record for most consecutive Snitch catches in a season, dreams of he and his son being the first father-son duo in the last century to play on a national Quidditch team.

From the day he was born, Maximus had been grooming his son for Quidditch greatness. Junior was on a broom before he could walk, and was doing barrel rolls while other kids where still learning their A-B-C's. Quidditch was in his blood, and nothing would make his father happier than if they were able to bring home America's first ever Quidditch World Cup.

Junior, on the other hand, had less lofty ambitions. Although nothing made him happier than when he was flying on a broom, he found no joy in playing Quidditch. It was not a game to him because it was not a game to his father. Quidditch for him meant hard work… it was a job. This had become a sticking point between him and his father. Junior was not ready to commit his life to Quidditch as his father had.

If you asked Junior, he would say that he was an average flyer. He was hardly worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as his father, but, in reality, he could have had his pick of any wizarding school in the United States; every one of them eager to get him on their Quidditch team. Maximus however, had other plans for his son-prodigy. That is why Junior was on his way to Hogwarts. Yes, Maximus wanted his son to go to a top Quidditch School, but he was also looking to build his son's a pedigree. Hogwarts was able to fill both these needs. "Any school that is good enough for Harry Potter is good enough for my son!" Maximus would boast to his teammates. So, this was Junior's next stop while on his journey to the American National Team.

Being the son of a famous Quidditch player made growing up very hard for Junior. When the news broke that he was transferring to Hogwarts in his third year of Wizarding School, the press swarmed him everywhere he went. After a while, Junior had become fed up with the constant bombardment of questions.

Junior had been wallowing in a gloomy funk the summer leading to his transfer to Hogwarts. He was packing his trunk when his father came into his room for one of his "Pep Talks."

"Son…" bellowed Maximus as if officiating over a team meeting. "I want you know that you mother and I are very proud of you. This is a big step in our plan."

"And what plan would that be dad?" Junior sneered.

"You know, our plan…?" Maximus said, oblivious to Junior's cynicism. "Junior, we've talked about this. You'll spend a few years at Hogwarts, then once you turn fifteen, you can come back for the National team tryouts," Maximus said matter of factly. "I would have preferred you to try out sooner, but you're mother wants you to get an education."

"Dad, Have you ever considered that maybe there may be something out there for me other than Quidditch?"

"What are you talking about son?" Maximus said quizzically. "You are the most natural flyer I have ever seen. I should know, I've seen them all. Trust me, if you stick to our plan, you'll be a shoe in to make the team."

"That's just the thing dad!" Junior exploded. "It isn't OUR plan… it's YOUR plan!"

"Don't you raise your voice with me!" Maximus said aggressively while towering over Junior. "A lot of kids your age would kill for the talent and opportunities that you have! That Krum kid on the Bulgarian team doesn't have a tenth of the skill you have on a broom!"

"Dad, you're not listening to me—"

"Son." Maximus placed his hands on his son's shoulders and squatted down a little so that he faced his son eye to eye. "I know that you've had self-esteem issues, but trust me when I say that you are good. With you on the team, we're guaranteed to be in the running for the World Cup."

Junior reached up and forcibly removed his father's hands from his shoulders. "That's all that you care about! That--that damn CUP! I'm you're son, not a means to an end!"

"Now, look here son!"

"No DAD, you look here! I'm not one of your players. I'm your son!" Junior shouted. "NO! I will not go to the tryouts. I HATE Quidditch! Unlike you, I don't give a damn about that stupid Cup, and I'm not going to Hogwarts!"

"Your mother and I paid a small fortune to get you into that school! YOU WILL be attending Hogwarts this year, YOU WILL apply yourself to your studies, YOU WILL continue your Quidditch training while you are there, and YOU WILL be at the national team tryouts when you turn fifteen!"

Maximus looked down at his son who was shooting him a hateful look at him through tear streaked eyes. "Finish up packing, we'll be leaving in thirty minutes Son," said Maximus before leaving the room. 'So it was that Junior did indeed go to Hogwarts…

Much to the chagrin of his father, when Junior arrived at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat put Junior into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. All that Junior cared about however, was that because he was a third year at the time of his transfer, he was the only one his age sitting before all the other students in the Great Hall being sorted with the first years. Junior towered above the younger students as they were led into the Great Hall to be sorted, and he could feel every eye in the room on him. Mercifully, Professor McGonagall called him first to be sorted before she started to list off the first years.

Roger Davies, however, was not complaining. Junior didn't even have to show up at try-outs. He didn't even have to sign up. His Quidditch uniform was waiting for him on his bed by the time he got to the dormitories. Davies was sure that, with Junior playing Chaser, Ravenclaw was sure to be in the running for the House Cup.

Although the Ravenclaw House welcomed him with open arms, Junior had a difficult time fitting in. He found it difficult to follow conversations because words like "git", and "wotcher" often threw him for a loop. He often wondered why it was that if the English language was invented there why was it that no one in the country was speaking it.

Having attended school for two years now,Junior had fully intergraded himself into Hogwarts life. Unlike in the United States, no one cared that he was the son of the great Maximus Brankovitch III. Here at Hogwarts, he was just another student. Harry Potter was the big celebrity on campus and Junior was happy to let him have all the fame for himself. Another thing that Junior found that appealed to him was that, although he didn't like the idea of going to school in the United Kingdom at first, he found that being away from the constant plans of his father was a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He even found himself enjoying Quidditch again.

Unfortunately however, Roger's plans were not going as he had expected. Although no one on the pitch could touch Junior, they were no closer to the House Cup than they were before Junior transferred to Hogwarts. This season wasn't looking any better, as they had lost to Slytherinin their opening game. They were now getting ready to play against Gyiffindor.This was a must-win match. If they lost, they would be out of the running for the Cup.

It was a hard week of practice. Roger proved to be just as much a taskmaster as Junior's father. This greatly effected Junior's play on the pitch. After a dismal practice where he had the Quaffle stolen from him six times, and had failed to score a single goal, Junior's confidence was severely lacking. The fact that Roger chewed him out in front of the whole team didn't help either.

When Junior got back to the Ravenclaw common room he plopped in his favorite chair, wallowing in a dreary funk. This was not an uncommon sight for the Ravenclaws. After blowing up on a first year that made the mistake of asking if he could get his father's autograph, everyone knew well enough to leave him alone whenever Junior got like this. On this occasion, however, Junior was not going to be able to wallow alone; as Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang hesitantly sat down beside him.

"How are you doing Junior?"

"How do you think I am?" Junior snapped.

"Don't mind Roger." Cho adjusted herself in her seat. "He's just on edge because he doesn't want to finish in last place like the year before."

"No, he's right! I suck!"

"Why are you always down on yourself Junior? You're the best flyer on the team, maybe even the school. If you wanted to, you could probably play Seeker."

"What?!" Junior almost shouted at the thought that anyone would even suggest that he play the same position as his father. Almost as if he felt that he was unworthy of such an honor. "N-No, that's your spot Cho." Junior stammered.

"Junior, I've seen you play. You are SO good! When you are on, no one can touch you. We would have won that last game if I had only been able to catch the Snitch."

"No!" said Junior, "If I had been able to score just two more goals, then it wouldn't have mattered if you caught the Snitch or not."

"I don't get it. Why are you so full of self-loathing? Junior, it's a game… Games are meant to be fun. When you are out there, it's as if you are flying against a ghost."

"I'm not flying against a ghost, I'm flying against myself!" exclaimed Junior. "Or at least the person everyone expects me to be."

"Junior," Cho said as she rose from her seat, "no one here expects you to be anyone but yourself." That said; Cho gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder before heading to her dorm room.

The week leading up to the Gryffindor match was a long one. The match was fast approaching. Practices compounded with the mound of homework from classes made for a backbreaking week for the Ravenclaw team members. This was no different for Junior. He was doing better at Quidditch practice, but Junior found it difficult to concentrate on his studies. He kept finding himself pondering what Cho had said to him earlier that week. "Was she right?" he wondered. "Is the only person holding me back myself?"

This question weighed heavily on Junior's mind up until the final whistle blew that signaled the end of the match. Harry Potter on his new Firebolt broom had caught the golden snitch right in front of the Ravenclaw goal.

"What a load of codswallop!" exclaimed Roger upon landing with his teammates. "I can't believe that Madam Hooch let Potter use that broom during the match. HOW IS THAT FAIR?" bellowed Roger who looked like he was ready to break his broom over his knee.

Junior, who led the team with three goals, was upset about the loss, but not nearly as much as Roger was.

The Ravenclaw team was making the long trek, or at least what seemed to be a long trek to the locker rooms. The locker room was obviously very somber. The only thing that they had to look forward to now was their match against Hufflepuff, which would decide which team would finish in last place.

They could hear the Gryffindor team celebrating in the adjacent locker room.

"Come on, let's get out of here!" said Roger.

As the team exited their locker room, the celebrating Gryffindors entered the Hall at the same time. Ron, who was backing out of the Gryffindor locker room while leading a cheer, bumped into Roger Davies.

"Hey, watch it, Weasley!" A vicious Davies growled.

Ron turned around to see the Ravenclaw team standing before him in the hallway.

"Oh, don't be a sore loser Davies!" hollered Fred from behind the group of Gryffindors.

"You're just lucky that Potter was able to use his Firebolt!" shouted Roger, "That's the only reason that you won!"

"The Firebolt had nothing to do with it," chirped Ron. "As slow as your Seeker was flying, Harry could have caught the Snitch using a mop. It was all skill!" This garnered enthusiastic hoots and hollers from the Gryffindors in the hall.

"I think that Potter is nothing without his Firebolt. Even with his Firebolt, Potter wishes that he had the skill on a broom that my man Junior here has," said Roger as he wrapped his arm around an unsuspecting Junior.

"There is no way that anyone on your team could catch Harry on a broom. Didn't you see him out there? Or was he moving too fast for you?" jeered Ron, smirking and drawing an audible "Ooooooh" from his fellow Gryffindors.

Junior looked over at Harry who, no doubt, had the exact same confused expression on his face.

"Look, Weasley! Anytime Harry wants to be humiliated by my man Junior here, you just let me know."

"Humiliated? Harry could fly to Hogsmeade and back by the time Junior even mounted his broom!"

"Is that a challenge Weasley?"

"Yes it is!"

"Alright! Harry vs. Junior!"

Harry and Junior gave each other identical looks as if to say, _"What just happened?"_ The crowd slowly dispersed as Ron and Roger walked off alone to discuss the nature of the challenge. After a few minutes, Harry and Junior were the only two left in the Hall. They looked at each other trying to soak in what had just happened.

"Uh, good match," said Junior.

"Same to you," muttered Harry.

The two boys, still very confused, gave each other a shrug, and headed out of the Quidditch stadium back to the school.

* * *

Coming Soon: An American Tale Part Two 


	2. The Race

Here is chapter two of An American Tale. Please R&R.

Insert funny worded, grammatically incorrect disclaimer here:

* * *

Nearly two weeks had passed since Ron and Roger's altercation outside the locker rooms. Junior has all but forgotten about it until Roger came up to him in the common room and informed him that he and Harry's race would be that weekend. It took Junior a while to realize that Roger was referring to the incident the day of the Gryffindor match. 

"Don't worry, Potter will be eating the broom bristles from your wake!" Roger boasted. "I've made sure of that."

Junior didn't quite know what to make of Roger's statements, and didn't give much thought to the matter until the morning of the race.

As instructed by Roger, Junior arrived at the big elm on the shore of the Lake Saturday morning. To his surprise, not only was Roger, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Cho as well as both Quidditch teams there waiting for him, and even Madam Hooch.

"Alright, alright… Brankovitch… Potter… please come here," Madam Hooch ordered as if she were officiating over a game of Quidditch. "I have been asked to officiate to ensure that this race is fair for all parties involved."

Junior glanced over at Harry, who returned his vacant expression as if to say, "I have no idea what is going on either."

The two boys with their brooms in hand stepped up before Madam Hooch, flanked by Ron and Davies on either side. Both boys look rather full of themselves as Madam Hooch started to explain the rules.

"First off, both of you are to hand over your brooms." This confused both boys, as they each thought that they were there for a broom race. They hesitantly handed over their brooms before Madam Hooch continued explaining the rules.

"The parties involved—" It didn't take long for Harry and Junior to figure out that she was not referring to them, but to Ron and Davies. "—have agreed that in the spirit of fairness, both competitors will be using school issue Cleansweep brooms."

Junior could see Davies swelling with pride, as no doubt, this was his idea.

"This is to ensure that the winner of this race has done so because of superior skill, and not the speed of the broom that they are riding."

Junior and Harry took another glimpse at each other as they realized that Ron and Davies had put a lot more thought into this than they would have liked. Junior imagined Ron and Davies arguing over the details for this race for several hours before finally coming to an agreement.

"Next," chirped Madam Hooch, "I'll be taking your wands. There will be no spells, curses, or hexing allowed by either competitor."

"As well as any of the onlookers!" Hermione scowled at Fred and George who gave her their best pretend shocked faces as they both mouthed the words "Who, me?"

"However, all non-magical forms of cheating like bumping, punching, kicking, and biting are allowed," added Davies.

"The race will consist as thus," continued Madam Hooch. "The competitors will start with both hands on the elm tree. When I blow my whistle, they will run along the shore to their brooms." She pointed a short ways down the shore where Junior and Harry saw a pair of Cleansweeps on the ground.

"The competitors will then mount their brooms and do one full lap around the lake. After completing their lap, they will then proceed to Hogsmeade village where they will stop off at the Hog's Head Tavern and buy a bottle of butterbeer—"

"The bottle has to be opened," interrupted Ron.

"What are you talking about?" snapped Davies. "If they buy it from the Hog's Head, of course it will be opened. The bartender opens every bottle before he hands them to people."

"I know that!" quipped Ron. "I just wanted them to know that it was a requirement for the bottle to be opened otherwise what is the point of carrying them?" This statement drew confused looks from Harry and Junior.

Madam Hooch shot the two bickering boys a nasty look before continuing explaining the rules. "Once you have your butterbeers, you are to mount your brooms again and fly back to Hogwarts. When you have reached the castle, you will do one loop around each tower before continuing on to the Quidditch pitch."

i _"Just how long is this damn race?"_ /i wondered Junior, which is no doubt the exact thing that Harry was thinking.

"When you reach the Quidditch pitch, you will then do ten laps around the stadium before finally landing and touching the base of center ring pole on the north end of the pitch. The first person that touches the pole with the most amount of butterbeer left in his bottle will be declared the winner. These are the rules as agreed upon by both sides. Are there any questions?"

Junior and Harry looked at each other yet again before looking back at Madam Hooch, and shaking their heads in dissent.

"Very well then… Potter… Brankovitch… Shake hands. I want a clean and hard fought race. You may take your positions at the tree."

Junior and Harry did as they were told. As they walked towards the elm, Junior leaned in, and asked, "How did we get ourselves into this?"

"That's the problem; we didn't," replied Harry. "Ron and Davies did."

The two reluctant competitors reached the tree, and placed both hands on it as Madam Hooch instructed. Junior looked back over his shoulder and saw that everyone including Madam Hooch had moved back to where the brooms were waiting.

"Are the two competitors ready?" shouted Madam Hooch.

Junior gave a wave of his hand, followed by Harry.

"On your marks…" called out Madam Hooch. "Get set…"

Junior tensed his muscles as he prepared to spring off of the tree.

Junior pushed off of the tree hard at the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle. He had a slight lead on Harry as the two boys raced towards their brooms. As they drew nearer, Junior thrust his right hand forward, and yelled "UP!" One of the brooms quickly rose from it position and hovered a few feet off of the ground. Junior leapt into the air, landed on the broom, and took off along the shoreline with Harry close behind. The group of onlookers cheered as the two boys sped around the lake.

Junior still held a slight lead over Harry, but he was catching up fast. Junior bumped into Harry as he pulled along side of him. The two boys jockeyed for position as they neared the far edge of the lake, and went into the first turn. Harry had the inside track on Junior, and pulled into the lead when he kicked off of Junior with his outside leg. Junior was forced to adjust as Harry sped onward.

Back on the shore, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors who had gathered to watch the first leg of the race were cheering wildly. Fred and George were shooting off sparks from their wands while Ron gripped Hermione's hand tightly, almost afraid to watch.

The lead changed several times as the two boys sped around the lake. As they approached the group of onlookers still gathered at the starting point, Junior had once again taken the lead. The Ravenclaws cheered as he swooped over their heads with Harry hot on his tail. Junior and Harry now headed in the direction of Hogsmeade. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors continued to cheer until the two racers were just specks on the horizon.

"Come on, everyone!" shouted Fred.

"Let's get to the stadium for the finish before all the good seats are gone!" added George.

Before he could get too far ahead of her, Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm. "What does he mean before all the good seats are gone?"

"Well, a few people heard about the race and said that they wanted to come and watch." Ron squeaked as Hermione scowled at him.

"What do you mean a few people?" glared Hermione.

Ron hated when she got like this. It made him wish that he could somehow shrink himself, and hide in a mouse hole or something. "Umm… the whole school."

"Ronald Weasley!"

"And the Daily Prophet," Ron said meekly.

"Ronald!"

"And a newspaper from America."

"RON!"

Junior and Harry were now speeding towards Hogsmeade. Harry was now sporting a bloody nose from an errant elbow while the two boys jostled for position. Harry was surprised at how fast Junior was. If it weren't for the fact that they had their brooms taken away before the race, he would have thought that Junior was on a Nimbus, or even a Firebolt; anything but the used school brooms that they were currently racing with.

The two racers descended sharply as they approached Hogsmeade. They sped past the train station jarring the sleeping conductor awake and causing him to fall out of the chair he was sitting in.

They blew past the Three Broomsticks swerving and weaving their way through the crowded main street. Ambrosius Flume peered out his front window as they rocketed by Honeydukes Sweetshop. Harry was able to pull into the lead when Junior had to swerve to avoid a cart full of dungbombs, which were being delivered to Zonko's Joke Shop.

Junior regained the lead however when Harry (having not been to the Hog's Head before) almost missed the side street where the tavern was located. Junior was the first to pull up to the front of the tavern, and jumped off of his broom. Junior already had his hand on the door when Harry pulled up next to Junior's broom.

Junior ran into the tavern. "One Butterbeer!" Junior demanded as he ran up to the bar.

"Make that two!" shouted Harry who just entered the tavern.

Junior dropped four Sickles on the bar before grabbing his bottle and running out the door. "This round is on me!"

Harry came out of the Hog's Head just in time to see Junior hop on his broom and speed off. Harry quickly grabbed his broom and flew off in hot pursuit of Junior. Junior flew down the side street, and quickly made the turn onto the main street Hogsmeade.

Harry desperately needed to catch up to Junior whose lead was increasing by the second. Harry saw Junior fly past the Three Broomsticks, and realized that Junior made the mistake of returning to the castle via the same route he used to get here. Harry smiled and made a sharp turn just before the Three Broomsticks, and flew towards the Shrieking Shack.

Junior looked back, certain that Harry was probably right on his tail. But when he didn't see Harry, Junior wondered where he had gone. He knew that he could not be that far ahead, and then saw Harry flying towards the Shrieking Shack.

i _"SHIT!"_ /i Junior grunted. i _"STUPID! STUPID!"_ /i he thought to himself as he shook his head while quickly making a sharp turn to catch up to Harry.

Junior was able to make up ground on Harry and was roughly two broomsticks lengths behind him. They were now flying along the shoreline when the Whomping Willow came into view. They approached the castle, and Harry rounded the nearest tower followed by Junior.

As they came out of each turn, Junior could feel drops of liquid hitting him in the face. For a split second, he thought that it was starting to rain when he realized that it was in fact butterbeer that was spilling from Harry's bottle every time he made a turn. Junior looked down and saw this his bottle was slowly emptying as the race progressed.

Harry held the lead while they progressed their way around the various towers of the castle. Harry had already started rounding the final tower when Junior took the inside track beside him, and pushed off of him with his outside leg to take the lead. Harry scowled at Junior as more of the butterbeer in his bottle spilled out.

As Junior drew closer to the pitch, he thought that he could hear a noise coming from the stadium. Junior and Harry flew over the top of the stadium to find that cheering students filled every seat. As they went into the first lap around the stadium, Junior looked down to see that the faculty seats were filled as well. Even Dumbledore was there. Next to him, Junior saw Flitwick jumping around on his stubby legs waving a Ravenclaw banner.

Harry had pulled up beside Junior and the two bumped furiously trying and knock the other off course and take the lead. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Junior saw a Bludger hurling at them. The two boys split apart just in time to avoid flying ball, causing a large amount of butterbeer to spill from each of their bottles. Junior looked up, and, circling above them along with Madam Hooch, were two Beaters, one in a Gryffindor uniform, and the other in a Ravenclaw one.

Lee Jordan's voice then rang over the loudspeaker. "Oooh and a near miss by the Bludger hit by Gryffindor Beater Fred Weasley!" Jordan's voice echoed. "No doubt the two racers were not expecting the last minute addition of two beaters sending a Bludger flying at them during this stage of the race. They will have to stay alert, and keep an eye out for

Bludgers aside from worrying about their opponent."

i _"Are they fricking nuts?"_ /i Junior thought furiously. i _"As if this whole race isn't bad enough, now they are hurling Bludgers at us!"_ /i

Flash powder sparked as the two boys flew past the designated press seats filled with reporters who had come to cover the event. With the famous Harry Potter at school, Junior had all but forgotten what it was like to have press following him. Junior soon realized that he didn't have time worry about the press when Harry bumped into him again causing more of the liquid in his bottle to spill out over the crowd.

The crowd grew louder with the completion of each lap. The cheering was easily as loud if not louder than the school Quidditch matches that were usually held in the stadium. They were rounding the turn into their final lap. Harry had a slight lead on Junior, entering the second turn.

i _"Two more turns!"_ /i Junior thought to himself as he and Harry swerved to avoid a Bludger. Junior was not expecting the race to be as close at it was. Harry really was a very talented flyer. He had to do something. The smaller boy was just too fast. Try as he might, Junior was not able to hold the lead. As fast as he was though, Harry was rather aggressive on a broom, constantly bumping into Junior as they raced side-by-side.

Junior tried to time Harry's bumps. Finally, and they entered the final turn, Harry tried to make a move to bump Junior. But just as he was about to make contact, Junior went into a barrel roll, flipping up and over Harry's head, and bumping him on the opposite side. This sent Harry straying off course, and allowed Junior to rocket into the lead.

Harry quickly was back on course, and had caught up with Junior going into the final turn. They were in the home stretch; the two boys now sped towards the North end of the pitch. The center pole their target. Junior and Harry hopped up and mounted their brooms like surfboards. The crowd cheered as Junior and Harry, bottles in hand, leapt off of their brooms, flying unassisted towards the pole. They each wrapped their arms around the pole, and slid down it, landing at the base at the exact same time.

Madam Hooch quickly dropped down from her broom, and blew her whistle. But who won?

Ron, Hermione, Roger, and Cho ran towards Junior and Harry. Ron and Roger immediately started arguing about who was the winner.

"Harry won! He touched the pole first!" exclaimed Ron.

"Yeah, but the rule states that who ever touched the base first, and Junior made it down the pole before Harry! JUNIOR IS THE WINNER!" shouted Davies.

"Aren't you two forgetting something?" spoke Hermione. "We have to check the bottles to see who has the most liquid."

"That's right!" Ron and Roger said in unison.

Harry held up his bottle to show that he had still had almost two ounces of butterbeer in his bottle. Now, everyone looked to Junior who held up an empty bottle. Ron was about to raise Harry's hand and proclaim him the winner when Junior, with a sly grin on his face, tapped Ron on the shoulder. Ron faced Junior and watched as he lifted his bottle to his lips, and emptied nearly three ounces of butterbeer that he had been holding in his mouth since he left Hogsmeade back into the bottle. Madam Hooch took the two bottles, and held them next to each other.

"Brankovitch is the winner!" declared Madam Hooch.

The Ravenclaws in the stands broke into wild cheers, and stormed onto the pitch. Before celebrating students overtook them, Harry went up to Junior and shook his hand.

"I owe you a Butterbeer!" Harry tried to shout over the growing crowd.

"No way, Davies and Weasley are definitely buying!" replied Junior before the two racers pulled each other into a congratulatory hug.

Before Harry knew it, Junior was being pulled away from him, and was aloft by his fellow Ravenclaws. As he was being carried off the pitch like a hero, Junior looked up towards the faculty seats, and saw the teachers giving him a standing ovation. Flitwick with his banner still waving was wiping tears of joy from his eyes. He almost glowed as he beamed with pride.

Junior later learned that he and Harry were both awarded fifty points for their participation in the race, and Junior got another ten points for winning. That night was a great night of frivolity for the Ravenclaws as they celebrated the victory of Hogwarts Greatest Flyer.

The next day, on the other side of the Atlantic, the team members of the Fitchburg Finches were in their locker room cleaning up after another hard day of practice.

"Hey, Maximus!" called out a large burly man as he walked towards the team captain. "Your kid is in the paper."

"What are you talking about?" inquired Maximus.

"Here, take a look." The burly man handed Maximus the paper.

He opened it up to find a moving picture of his son being held up on the shoulders of his housemates. The headline above the picture read: "American Wins the First Annual Hogwarts Butterbeer Race."

Maximus couldn't believe it. He read the accompanying article.

_Maximus Brankovitch IV, son of American National Quidditch Team captain Maximus Brankovitch III, defeated equally notable Harry Potter yesterday in the first ever Hogwarts Butterbeer Race. The contest consisted of a several kilometer race to a neighboring village where the competitors were to purchase a butterbeer, and fly with it back to the school without spilling all of it's contents. _

_When asked if he would be accepting an invitation to the American National Team tryouts in April, Junior (as he is referred to by his friends) said that he was flattered to be considered, but that he would forgo the tryouts in favor of completing his schooling at Hogwarts._

_Continued on Page 7_

"Too bad," said the burly man. "We could have really used his speed at Chaser."

"True, but it's all for the best. Besides, my wife would have killed me if I pulled him out of school for the tryouts anyway." Maximus chuckled as he swelled with pride for his son.

* * *

Thank you for reading. 


End file.
